3 Poems at Springtime

[Prefatory Note: Theodor Adorno’s unforgettable remark of 1983 continues
to challenge and even haunt: “to write poetry after Auschwitz is barbaric.”
When I first encountered such a startling sentiment II was grateful to be reminded
that to engage normally involves turning a blind eye toward acute and massive
suffering, at least briefly. Today there are many horrors inflicted on innocent decent people
whether on the southern border of the United States, Rakhine State in
Myanmar, Gaza, Yemen, Syria, Honduras, among the poor and strife-ridden everywhere. 
Yet to be on the side of justice is at. one with embracing the glories of life, and to live well is
to dream poetically. My short poems are intended as a gesture of celebration,
a welcoming of Spring in dark times, indefensible yet indispensable. Maybe also somewhat
self-indulgent, an undeserved respite from grief and grievances.]
 
3 Poems at Springtime
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On My 88thBirthday: A Reflection
 
To be almost 90
And happy
With good health
 
Feels almost criminal
Amid Satanic happenings
Raising Images too dark
To seem real
 
Children in Gaza
Are shot and killed
Friday after Friday
By designated assassins
 
Khashoggi’s murder
An unspeakable crime
Yet only a PR problem
For hard men of power
 
Events this dark
And this numerous
Form storm clouds
 
Will despair be our fate?
Is this truly our world?
Are we even meant to survive?
 
My hope– to live
Long enough to shout
An everlasting ‘No’
 
And may so affirming
Become my last word
Become my testament
Of hope for all that lives
 
 
 
Richard Falk
Berlin
November 13, 2018
Rev. April 20, 2019
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In Search of Equivalence
 A daisy is like a pigeon
A pigeon seems an ant
Yet an ant is far from daisy
And you my love are neither
 
An orchid is like my cat
A cat is a household god
Worship only what you love
Yet avoiding hate of all else
 
Ask a single question
Are equals ever equal
Yeats had an answer
Whatever is born begotten dies
 
IV/14/2019
Santa Barbara
 
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What You See Is Not What You Get
 
graffiti and garbage
       walls alive
              pavements littered
 
whether Delhi or Rome
       yet fabulous
              feasting the eye
 
a delirium of the senses
       heartbreak torment
              disturbs the mind
 
always thankful for vividness
       overcoming pity
              we live for life
 
IV/14/2019
Santa Barbara  
 

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